


To Ashes

by dendraica



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Brynhild is a BAMF and Astrid really looks up to her, Gen, Minor Character Death, Traumatized Children, also there's kittens, character development galore for wee Astrid, putting out a greasy dragon on fire, this is Berk before Hiccup ever befriended a Nightfury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 22:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica
Summary: Young Astrid has always looked up to Brynhild Heimdall, the girl who graduated top of her Dragon Killing class. On the night of a particularly awful dragon raid, Astrid, Fishlegs and the Twins find themselves trapped in the Great Hall, with only Bryn to protect them from an agitated Monstrous Nightmare.After a devastating sacrifice, Astrid learns about the true cost of protection and what it takes to be a fighter - in a seemingly never ending war against the dragons.





	To Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tousled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tousled/gifts).
  * Inspired by [i am brave, i am bruised, i am who i am meant to be.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569029) by [tousled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tousled/pseuds/tousled). 



The raid was going to be a bad one, Gothi had said. 

The old woman had watched the Terrors fly in first, an entire flock of them; it almost looked like a migration of ravens with how much they filled the skies. Though the little dragons were scavengers, they were known for their speed and usually came ahead of the worst contenders.

That morning, their flight had darkened the sunrise even miles from shore. All anyone could hear over the noise of frightened livestock and panicking chickens was the sound of a million beating wings descending upon the island. 

Stoick got the vast majority of Vikings to ready catapults and crossbows, while those who couldn’t fight scrambled to find hiding places for pets, livestock, and children.

Cellars were usually the best choice - anything else could go up in flames and collapse, but solid dirt cellars reinforced with beams and with air vents and emergency water and food supplies would keep people and animals safe for days - even if they were buried under debris.

Not everyone had a usable cellar though. The Ingermans had filled their cellar with food and books, stubbornly determining that their boathouse would be a safe place for their livestock and the kids during raids. It had proved safe enough; there had only ever been minimal damage as dragons were not interested in boats. 

The Thorstons didn’t have a cellar at all - they had a giant family boar pit to assemble in. For some reason or other, neither of the Twins were currently in it by the time the more dangerous dragons reached the island. 

That reason was most likely because of Tuff, who had insisted on rescuing an armful of kittens from Sven’s barn - kittens that no-one knew were there save him and Ruffnut. 

Fishlegs had been separated from his mother when a fire broke out in the village market. Spitelout had bellowed orders for a water line and in the scramble, Mama Ingerman was suddenly nowhere to be found. 

He’d been found by Brynhild, who’d already collared Ruff and Tuff - the latter stubbornly holding on to his basket of kittens. He had scratch marks all over his neck and face, but his look of heroic determination was ironclad. By comparison, Ruffnut just looked exasperated.

Astrid couldn’t help but feel a sense of immense pride that Brynhild hadn’t had to collar her - she had run to the older girl as soon as she saw her reluctant entourage, wanting to help. 

“Astrid, where’s your mom?” Bryn had demanded immediately, which had made her flush with mortified indignance. 

“She’s helping Widow Jensen hide her chickens and goats!” she reported. “I came to help you!”

The girl sighed. “Come with us to the Hall then,” Brynhild ordered, and Astrid nodded - feeling more at ease. She could follow orders better than the others. That was why Bryn liked her so much.

Fishlegs was crying, clearly wanting to run off and find his mom, and Ruff kept smacking him in the arm and telling him to woman up. Obviously it was ineffective; he just started wailing harder.

Bryn was not the comforting type but her voice was gentle as she prodded her charges to hurry up to the Hall. Eventually, Tuffnut sidled up to Legs with his basket, attempting to distract him. “Look what I have! Aren’t they just the cutest? The little white one is trying to catch the calico’s tail!”

It worked somewhat; though sniffling, Fishlegs happily offered his opinion on which kitten he liked best and the two boys kept pace with the group. 

An explosion down by the lower crop fields made them all shriek and turn to look, but Brynhild didn’t indulge them. “Everyone move, now! Get to the Hall!” In a voice nobody dared argue with, she shouted them up the stairs.

Tuff’s kittens had shrunk down in the basket, save for the white one who tried to scrabble out and managed to flop onto the stone steps as they ran. Tuff shouted and tried to go back for it, but Brynhild grabbed his arm and yanked him after. 

Astrid hesitated, but Brynhild wasn’t looking her way. She used it to her advantage, going back to scoop the kitten up. It’s claws sunk into her as she sprinted, holding the furball to her chest and swiftly closing the distance between herself and the doors of the Great Hall. 

Tuff was crying into his sister’s shoulder, not having seen the rescue, but Ruff nudged him sharply when she spotted Astrid. 

He looked up and his eyes widened at her before a glowing smile broke out across his face. Astrid felt herself blushing as she gently placed the squeaking kitten back into the basket with her brothers and sisters. 

The noise and battle outside had reduced them to a trembling mound of fluff and green eyes and she stroked them, secretly glad Tuff had brought them along. 

The boy twin was still grinning at her like she was a hero of the ages when Astrid looked back up and she found herself suddenly part of a Thorston sandwich, both him and Ruff hugging her tightly.

“You are so awesome -” Tuffnut was starting to say in her ear, but there was another bang, louder and closer than before, and while it didn’t shake the Great Hall itself, a gust of hot air from the explosion blew one of the heavy doors open and extinguished half the torches. 

The kids froze and Bryn took a shaking breath of horror. The blown door had a damaged upper hinge now and she raced to the entrance, grabbing a side of it and trying to wrench it closed. Astrid disentangled herself from the Twins and ran to help her. 

“Grab the other end of the bar,” Brynhild panted, succeeding barely in getting the door shut enough to brace it properly. Ruff ran up to help guide the middle and the three of them slid the wooden plank through the iron brackets to keep another wayward explosion out.

Not far enough beyond the Hall’s entrance, there was a scream of a woman and then a crunch that silenced the sound abruptly. The girls backed away from the door, Astrid feeling sick to her stomach. She hadn’t recognized the voice, but there was uncomfortable sound of chewing.

Swallowing her gorge, she headed back with Ruff and Bryn to the boys. Fishlegs was a whimpering ball of terror, and Tuff was at least marginally more useful, holding the basket in his lap and singing a lullaby. His voice was shaking. 

“Find a safe place for those kittens, Tuffy. You might need your hands free. I’d set them up in the kitchens - in one of the cupboards.” Bryn told him, sitting down with her back against the wall. She took her axe off her back, a great double headed one that had made Astrid determined to have one just like it by her ninth birthday. 

“But then I’ll have to stay with them, or they’ll get scared and leave the basket and -”

“No arguing, go do it. Astrid, help him find a place, and then both of you come back here.”

Bryn’s voice was shaking a little, as were her hands. Astrid noticed, but said nothing. Her confidence in Brynhild didn’t waver, but she keenly understood the older girl not wanting anyone to see her afraid. Ruffnut wasn’t paying attention, busy prodding Fishlegs and trying to shame him into usefulness.

Astrid sighed and reached for Tuff’s hand, only for him to grab hers first and pull her towards the kitchens.

It was a mess through the door; like someone had been starting to cook soup and hadn’t had time to clean up. The fire was reduced to dying embers and Tuff started poking through cupboards and gathering towels. 

After a moment, she helped him and they worked together in silence, making a cozy nest in the smaller upper cupboards where the cooking ingredients were usually kept. Tuff - having no respect for where other people’s things belonged -had dragged out the bags of soda ash, sugar, salt and flour, dropping them on the ground by the work table. 

When the kittens had crammed themselves together in the farthest corner of the cabinet, Tuff set the basket down and shut them in lightly. 

“Are your parents with the rest of your family?” Astrid inquired eventually, mostly to break the silence. 

“Yeah, I think so. Mom was grabbing the chickens and stuffing them into a cart last I saw. I hope she took our yak too - Sam hates dragon raids. He got bitten on the butt by a Terror last time.” 

She laughed, more at the way he’d said it than anything else. Astrid was about to ask where he’d found the kittens, but a deafening crash made the words catch in her throat. Tuff gasped raggedly, panting in fear as the world suddenly went dark, save for the dim embers in the kitchen. 

Without another moment, she sought his hand in the dark and pulled him after her, making him stumble on frozen legs. There was the sound of a battle raging inside the Hall, a man shouting angrily, claws raking across stone and something big smashing into tables. 

Careful and quiet, Astrid pushed open the kitchen door to see Nettlehead Erickson taking on a giant Monstrous Nightmare. The man had boasted to everyone that he’d bag a dragon on the next raid just last week. 

Astrid couldn’t believe he’d led the dragon to the Great Hall - didn’t he know there were kids here?!

Brynhild was on her feet, eyes wild and axe at the ready, shielding Ruff and Fishlegs with her body. When the Nightmare’s blast of fire sent Nettlehead sailing back to crash against the wall, it snarled at his comatose form and turned to stomp back toward the exit.

Fishlegs’ echoing whimper made it pause however and it slowly turned to regard the other humans in the room. Growling, the dragon turned back around in the tight space. 

Brynhild let out a wild war scream before it could open its jaws and ran at it in a kamikaze gesture, slicing at the dragon’s face with her axe. It backed up, snarling as splintered wood and debris prevented its retreat. 

The dragon tried to beat her away with its wings, effectively extinguishing any and all torches left in the Hall. Fishlegs screamed and Tuff let out a whimper, wrapping his arms around Astrid and burying his face in her neck. She could feel him shaking; what was weird was that it was the darkness that seemed to scare him more than the actual dragon. 

There was a hard slap, probably from Ruffnut, because Fishlegs went abruptly silent, allowing Astrid to focus entirely on the sight of Brynhild - her heroine, age sixteen, who’d passed her dragon classes with flying colors and had slain before everyone’s eyes a Hideous Zippleback - swinging her axe and yelling fiercely. 

She was magnificent, she was protecting them all - Nettlehead was going to be so furious when he woke up and realized that Brynhild had bagged his Monstrous Nightmare. 

Astrid wanted to cheer her on, but Tuff’s hold was half-strangling her. She unwrapped his arm from around her neck and turned to try and encourage her friend to watch. He’d probably be more upset if he _missed_ it - the epic battle Bryn was fighting all by herself. “Tuff, it’ll be okay, you can look–”

The Nightmare was backing up over the pile of splintered tables and benches but even though it towered over the girl, she didn’t back down. Instead, she ran up the pile to deliver a chop to the Nightmare’s snout, just as it opened its mouth to let out a blast. 

For a moment, she was silhouetted in the flames, a figure jumping to deal the final blow, and then … .

And then the smoke cleared, and she was … 

“NO!” Astrid screamed, thoughtlessly trying to run to the pile of smoldering flesh and rags Brynhild had been reduced to. Tuff tightened his grip on her, preventing her and it was a good thing; the Nightmare snarled at her voice and flared up, granting a horrible flickering light to the ruins of the Hall. 

It began to stalk toward the kitchens. 

Fishlegs squealed again, making the dragon turn its great head to the new sound - of Ruff grabbing his arm and dashing them across the Hall toward a side corridor.

 They were out of easy reach before it spun around to snap its jaws, but the jarring sound of teeth snapping together sent chills through Astrid’s body. She looked again at Bryn’s blackened corpse and felt determined rage fill her heart, looking around for a passable weapon to attack it with.

Hands on her shoulders pulled her out of sight and Tuff was pressing a hand across her mouth, frantically shaking his head, though she could only see the outline of him. 

He pointed to the burlap bags next to the work table and crept forward, dragging two of them over. They were almost too big to lift, but they were the heaviest things at their disposal.

Tuff moved to the opposite side of the door and gripped both corners of his salt bag, taking a few shaking breaths and nodding at her. Seeing no better option, Astrid followed suit, and hoped dimly that maybe she’d grabbed the sugar and the dragon would be too distracted with the sweet granules to eat them both.

A long flaming muzzle poked into the kitchen, through a doorway not quite big enough to allow the dragon’s full head through. Her breath was high and almost frantic, but Astrid thought of Bryn, of her own mom and dad who would realize she hadn’t been able to look after herself after all and be sad. 

She thought of Tuff and Ruff and Fishlegs and their parents. She thought of the kittens huddled quietly in their cupboard, who might actually be the only ones to survive this so long as they stayed quiet.

The muzzle opened slightly and Tuff took in a sharp terrified breath before swinging his bag of salt as hard as he could. It slammed against the impressive fangs and the seams burst, filling the unfortunate dragon’s mouth with approximately twenty pounds of salt. 

Garbled screeching followed and the dragon backed out, slamming its muzzle against the top frame of the doorway and backing out to frantically wipe and cough the salt out of its mouth. It tried to spit flame and choked. 

Astrid and Tuff ran out of the kitchen, the former still holding her bag of heavy mystery. Tuff grabbed the ends of the sack as the dragon flared up in rage, he nodded her way.

With her fiercest yell, Astrid flung her end and Tuff followed suit. The burlap split open as it made contact with one of the horns on top of its head, covering it in white powder that was decidedly not sugar. It shrieked and shook itself, flames extinguished over half its body.

There was no time to wonder what happened or what had been in the bag; even without flames, the dragon was still quite capable of killing them. Astrid grabbed Tuff’s wrist and ran him toward the same corridor Ruff and Fishlegs had ducked into moments earlier. 

Ruffnut reached out and yanked them both to safety - one hand gripping a handful of her brother’s hair and the other Astrid’s collar. They stumbled to the ground in a pile and hurriedly righted themselves to flatten against the wall. 

All four kids watched in terror as the dragon let out a furious howl and turned to fly away from the Great Hall, leaving destruction and death behind it. Astrid watched it leave and then let out an anguished yell. 

“It’s getting away!” she shouted angrily at the others. 

She was met with blank and confused stares.

“Yeah, we know,” Ruffnut shrugged, though her usual unimpressed tone was uneven. “Good news for us, right?” 

“It killed her - it _killed_ Brynhild!”

“We know, Astrid,” Tuff said, voice strained but gentle. Fishlegs was sobbing inconsolably, huddled on the ground and rocking back and forth with his face in his hands. Astrid was feeling very uncharitable all of a sudden, wanting to hit him until he stopped crying. He wasn’t even injured, _why_ was he _crying_ \- tears were useless! 

Before she could berate him, she was hugged tightly. “I’m sorry,” Tuff said quietly. “We all liked her. I know you liked her most.” 

Her rage didn’t dissipate, but it went from a boil to a light simmer. Reluctantly she took in a shaking breath and let him hold her another few moments, feeling her eyes begin to sting. She didn’t want to cry, she wanted to fight, but there was nothing left to fight anymore. 

Astrid bit her lip until she tasted blood and hugged him back fiercely, making him gasp as she squeezed the air out of his body. 

Over in the corner, Nettlehead groaned pathetically and it sent another wave of rage crashing into her heart. Astrid pulled away from Tuff and stormed over to the older boy through the settling ash and dust - past Bryn’s form. It was his fault she was dead, his stupid fault for almost killing them all -

Nettlehead looked completely baffled when she got to him, and by the time other grownups arrived to search and rescue, she was still screaming every bit of invective that a Hooligan could have possibly learned by the age of nine summers. 

Fishlegs’ mom ran past them and she wailed with relief when she saw her boy. Astrid ignored the reunion and also the tears running down her face in favor of the only action that seemed to make sense to her at the moment - which was apparently yelling at an injured boy twice her age.

Fleeting hands touched her and she angrily tried to bat them away until she recognized her father, who simply picked her up in his arms and hugged her tightly. 

Astrid recognized the smell of him and sobbed, much to her mortification - though it was muffled by his beard. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and clung to her dad as he spoke soothingly and rubbed her back. There was a tremble to his voice that she had never before heard and something in her heart hardened. 

She was going to be the best in her class when her time came. She was never going to worry her parents like this, she was never going to make them grieve like Bryn’s parents would be doing tonight.

“Astrid?” Tuff’s voice made her look up and then down at him. He held up a kitten, the white one she had rescued from the steps earlier. Astrid hitched, not understanding for a moment, but he went up on tiptoe and let it scramble over her shoulder to curl against her chest, trembling. After a moment it licked its paw and Astrid cupped her hands around its warm soft body. 

“Take care of her for me tonight, okay Astrid? I have to find homes for the rest. Mom says we can’t have any other pets. Sam’s too expensive as it is.” He grinned up at her.   

She blinked a few more tears, not quite sure how Tuff had gone to normal so fast after all this, but she was oddly grateful. He backed away towards his sister, both going back toward the kitchens, presumably to gather the rest of his brood. 

She wondered absently when the Twins’ parents were going to come for them.

Against her chest, the kitten began to purr. It was trembling still, but Astrid pet the soft fur and held it close to her heart. It helped, having something else to look after for a while.

She could hear Nettlehead dazedly asking what had happened to the Great Hall; he apparently had a concussion. Of course he did. He likely hadn’t noticed Brynhild, who someone - audibly weeping - had already covered with a quilt. 

Weary and heartsick, she laid her head on her father’s shoulder and let him carry her home. 

Astrid lost track of the world for a little while after that. She remained silent, even as her mother dabbed the soot off her face and her father tucked her into her own bed. 

She could see the unshed tears in their eyes, and told herself that the next ones they ever shed would be of pride.

Brynhild had died to protect her. Astrid couldn’t let her down - couldn’t let anyone down, ever again. 

“I’m going to be the best when it’s my turn,” she confided to the kitten. It jumped a little at her voice, still on edge, but returned her words with a soft blink before it resumed washing its paws. 

Astrid let herself smile and reached over to stroke the kitten’s cheek. It nuzzled its face into her palm and wrapped one paw around her wrist, watching her. She focused on the sound of its purring and closed her eyes. 

***

“What did you name her?” the voice asked, startling Astrid and throwing her aim off. The axe sailed past the target and into a nearby thorn bush. 

Irritated, she turned around to glower at the culprit, who sheepishly smiled back at her. Tuff sat down uninvited on her porch and made soft clicking noises with his tongue until the kitten got off her perch in the window and meandered toward him. 

“I’m training,” Astrid told him pointedly. “You can watch if you want, but don’t interrupt me, okay?” 

It had been a week since the funeral of Brynhild, along with so many others. At least twenty nine men, women and children had lost their lives in the raid, and more had been made homeless - just before winter. There were going to be more deaths. Berk needed warriors, badly. 

Which was why she was training early. She hadn’t played with the others, insisting on fighting lessons instead, which her older cousin Eloise had willingly agreed to give her. Her father kept insisting that it was just a phase - likely brought on by her recent traumatic experience.

“Cool. Train away. Don’t blame me if she ends up liking me better than you. Can I name her?” 

“… you can suggest some names. I can’t think of any. And no, I’m not naming her Snowball, or Fluffy, or anything ridiculous.” 

Much to her shame, Astrid might have named her something ridiculous up to a day before the raid, but that was over now. 

“Of course not, the trolls and goblins would eat her up if you gave her a soft name like that. Let’s see.” Tuff furrowed his brow in concentration and put his fingers up to his temples, looking like his mother when she gave palm readings at the market. 

Astrid paused to watch him, unable to keep back a soft smile as the kitten tilted her head and flopped over on her back, offering up her belly. 

It was a trap, but Tuff fell for it gladly, cooing at her even as she took him prisoner, kicking and biting without mercy. He still got in a few tickles before retracting his now bleeding hand. Unconcerned, he wiped the blood off on his leggings and gently booped the kitten’s nose with a fingertip. 

“So Snotty, Legs, my sis and I were gonna go down to the lagoon for some fishing. Maybe even take a dive off Dead Man’s Toenail. Wanna come with us? You can rescue me if I start drowning.” 

Astrid snorted. “No thanks. I have a lot of work to do if I’m going to be ready to take Gobber’s class.” 

“Isn’t that when we’re thirteen? That’s forever away. This kitten will be a great grandma cat by then, with kittens of her own. Speaking of kittens, Widow Jensen’s kids totally loved the other three - I think they’re going to keep them. What about naming yours Skaldi? A fierce Jotunn princess, hellbent on avenging her father?” 

The whirlwind of subject changes was hard for people who didn’t know Tuff to keep up with, but Astrid found it comforting just now. “Not bad. Keep them coming.” 

Companionably, Tuff kept suggesting names and telling short blurbs of the epic stories behind them - watching her retrieve and throw the axe again and again. 

Astrid started to get closer to the bullseye than she had yesterday and it was encouraging. Maybe she could stop after she got one bullseye and go swimming with the others after all. It would be nice to get all the sweat off her body and be with her friends. 

“What about Brynhild?” 

Her axe sailed over the target and crashed further past it, into yet another bush. Tuff was already wincing before she turned around to glare at him. 

“Sorry. Too soon?” 

Astrid wasn’t really upset about the mention of her name, so much as the image it conjured up. But this time, instead of just Bryn, she imagined the crumpled forms of Ruff, of Snotlout, Fishlegs, Hiccup and Tuff … all lying deathly still across the stone floor of the Hall. 

_If she failed …_

Quickly she turned away from him and wiped a hand across her eyes. “That actually sounds like a good name for her. It’s a way I can remember her. I can remember what’s important.” 

“W-Well - Freja wasn’t bad either though, right? And I particularly liked Magnhild - you know, it means ‘powerful in battle’. That’s definitely true - look at my hand, it’s all swollen!” Tuff held it up for her to see. Despite the jovial tone, he sounded a little unnerved, worried even

“It’s okay, Tuff. You didn’t upset me. I actually like the name Brynhild for her. She’s sweet and fierce. She brings me comfort and courage when I need it, just like … ” 

When Astrid didn’t turn around, he got to his feet and brushed his leggings off, self-consciously. “Okay, well, if you won’t join us, I can dunk Snotlout for you. How many times?” 

She sighed and went to go retrieve her axe. When she came back, Tuff was draped over the front of the target, elbows braced over the top frame. “Did I mention there was fishing? We saw some salmon floating around the bottom - bet Brynhild would love if you caught her some.” 

Astrid relented, grip softening on the axe handle. Tuffnut’s hand joined her grip on the wooden handle. “Can I try? Show me how.”

She nodded and walked with him back to the porch where she had stood. She’d thought Tuff knew how to throw axes already, but maybe his parents hadn’t trained him. As Eloise had coached her, she showed Tuff how to stand, nudging him into the right position when he made a ridiculous hash of it. 

The first three he of course missed terribly and ran off to fetch it back. Astrid was amused and actually having fun for the first time in days. When Tuff finally managed to sink the axe - in the outer layer of the target - she felt good enough to suggest they head off to the lagoon. 

It was four years until she’d be in Gobber’s class, and she was going to train like crazy even before that. Maybe … maybe she didn’t have to do it alone, though. Tuff was showing some promise, and she could probably sweet talk him into fetching her own missed throws. Especially if he kept startling her. 

Managing another smile, she allowed him to sling an arm across her shoulders and left her axe behind the door of her home. 

Protecting her friends and her family was the most important thing in the world now. But to have life? One had to live it too. 

Tuff grinned over at her and she felt her heart leap a bit at the easy curve of his smile, telling her that for now, for at least _today_ , everything was going to be alright. 

Behind them, Brynhild curled up back in her window perch, blinking fondly after them both.

**– End ******

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [with the roar of the fire (my heart goes to my feet)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348083) by [tousled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tousled/pseuds/tousled)




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